Shorter poetry this week

Another short poem today.

Daddy was home, so
We played in pool while sun shone
Then the boys watched “Cops”

Shorter poetry this week

Poem today speaks for itself.


Weather too gorgeous
To stay inside and write, so –
Short poem yet again

Shorter poetry this week

His space pajamas
Worked their magic, or maybe
It was the weather

Shorter poetry this week

Thomas is doing his part for a successful shuttle launch.

Tonight Thomas wears
Space pajamas in support
Of the shuttle launch

Shorter poetry this week

I'm writing my poem while my tired baby is in his crib crying his tired cry. :(

When babies need sleep
The most, they fight sleep the most –
Funny – Why is that?

Shorter poetry this week

Today's poem is still short, but not necessarily sweet. :)

Up four times last night
Poor baby! Teeth were hurting
Makes mommy cranky

Shorter poetry this week

Short and sweet again today.

Clear while baby slept
When he was awake, cloudy –
No swimming today.

Shorter poetry this week

There is supposed to be an especially spectacular shuttle launch tomorrow morning around 1:30 IF they are able to fuel the shuttle in time.

The sky was clear blue
No hint of a storm – until
Shuttle fueling time

Shorter poetry this week

Here is today's poem du jour:

Today

Today
I make birthday cards
For the church
And wrote

Today
I caught up the washing up
And the ironing
And wrote

Today
I made baby food out of
Yellow squash
And wrote

Today
I worked on the illustrations
For Sophie’s story
And wrote

Shorter poetry this week

Here is yesterday's shorter poem du jour -- obviously I wrote it today. :)

I fed the fish, the cats
The dog and the baby
But I didn’t write
Yesterday

I washed three loads of laundry
And changed the beds
But I didn’t write
Yesterday

I cleaned the bathrooms and
The kitchen counters
But I didn’t write
Yesterday

I kept the dog quiet and
Resting her hurt knee
But I didn’t write
Yesterday

I ate bad Chinese food
And was up all night
But I didn’t write
Yesterday

New week. Yay!

New poetry week -- new poetry style. Yay! Here is my short poem du jour:

Poor little Sophie
Has to walk slowly
Because on Sunday
She hurt her knee

Poor little Sophie
Can’t pursue Chloe
Because on Sunday
She hurt her knee

Poor little Sophie
Might have surgery
Because on Sunday
She hurt her knee

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

OK, I know I've said it before, I this is my last revised nursery rhyme (for a while at least).

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(This is my garden)

This is my garden
I’ll rake it with care
And then some flower seeds I’ll plant
The sun will shine
The rain will fall
And my garden will blossom
And grow straight and tall

(Mine)

This is my garden
All covered with weeds
The dog’s dug a hole by that plant
The rain comes down
The plant will fall
But the weeds in my garden
Still grow straight and tall

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

The last poem on Thomas' blocks was "I had a little nut tree". I wasn't familiar with it, so you might not be either. It's actually a song. I'm still working out the tune.

Original:

I had a little nut tree,
Nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg,
And a golden pear;
The King of Spain's daughter
Came to visit me,
And all for the sake
Of my little nut tree.
I skipped over water
I danced over the sea
And ll the birds in the air
They couldn't catch me

Mine:

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(I had a little nut tree)

I have a naughty puppy
Nothing will she do
But tear up the garden
And chew up my shoe
We put her through training
And she passed her class
But we don’t know
How she got the pass
She still tears up the garden
And chews up my shoe
All the training in the world
No good would it do

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

Today is a two-fer -- one of the poems is really short.

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(Jack be Nimble)

Cats are funny
Cats are fun
Cats don’t answer
To anyone


Revised Nursery Rhyme
(Old Mother Hubbard)

Wee Thomas William
Used cups, but he spilled them
All over the tray of his chair
The spill overflows
And runs down his clothes --
Lucky that Sophie was there!

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

Our little boy went swimming in his grandparents' pool today. We hope the only bodily fluid he left in the pool was drool, but there are no guarantees with a nine-month-old.

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater)

Thomas, Thomas, full of promise
In his room he raised a rumpus
He splashed and swam inside his pool
Where nobody could see him drool

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

Today's nursery used to be "Do you know the Muffin Man?"

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(Do you know the Muffin Man)

Do you know the Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
Do you know the Buster Cat
Whose fur is black and white?

Oh, yes, I know the Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
Oh, yes, I know the Buster Cat
Who jumps upon our bed

How I love the Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
The Buster Cat
How I love the Buster Cat
Who talks most every night

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

My little scaredy cat Chloe inspired today's poem. It used to be "Did you ever see a lassie?"

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(Did you ever seen a lassie)

Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that way
Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that?

Run this way or that way
Run this way or that way
Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that?

She was running from the thunder
Was Chloe, was Chloe
She was running from the thunder
Was Chloe the cat

Run this way or that way
Run this way or that way
Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that?

She was hiding from the lightning
Was Chloe, was Chloe
She was hiding from the lightning
Was Chloe the cat

Run this way or that way
Run this way or that way
Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that?

Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that way
Have you seen my little Chloe
Run this way or that?

Nursery Rhymes revisited...

Today's nursery rhyme used to be "There was a Crooked Man..."

Revised Nursery Rhyme
(There was a crooked man)

There was a silly baby
He crawled a silly way
He sang a silly ditty
On silly day
He had a silly dog
Who chased a silly cat
And they all played together
On a silly little mat

Triolet du jour

I am looking forward to doing some easier poems starting tomorrow. Here is my last triolet du jour (for now):

Triolet – Music – Voice

The first instrument of all was the voice
Which is great, because I love to sing
Not all who hear me have cause to rejoice
The first instrument of all was the voice
Lately it’s been my instrument of choice
Because with the voice, there is nothing to bring
The first instrument of all was the voice
Which is great, because I love to sing

Triolet du jour

Triolet – Music – Harmonica

The harmonica: I both love and hate
It is both easy and hard to play it
Its chords are simple but tend to grate
The harmonica I both love and hate
Breathe out for one note, in for its mate
The square holes take the air and splay it
The harmonica I both love and hate
It is both easy and hard to play it

Triolet du jour

Here is my harmonica triolet:

Triolet – Music – Harmonica

The harmonica: I both love and hate
It is both easy and hard to play it
Its chords are simple but tend to grate
The harmonica I both love and hate
Breathe out for one note, in for its mate
The square holes take the air and splay it
The harmonica I both love and hate
It is both easy and hard to play it

Triolet du jour

Today's instrument is the mandolin, which I would love to play if it didn't slice my fingertips -- ow! The great thing is, though, if my fingertips ever toughen, the strings correspond to the strings of a violin.

Triolet – Music – Mandolin

How distinct the sound of the mandolin
A sound as musical as its name
It can play as smoothly as lanolin
How distinct the sound of the mandolin
But harder to play that the violin
The wires cut the fingertips causing pain
How distinct the sound of the mandolin
A sound as musical as its name

Triolet du jour

Today's instrument is the fife. I can play the flute, sort of, and the penny whistle, sort of, so I should be able to play the fife. Should, not, am.

Troilet – Music – Fife

Does anyone ever consider the fife
As an instrument worthy of learning?
Its tones are sharp and point like a knife
Does anyone ever consider the fife
In situations other than strife
Where cities are gutted and left burning?
Does anyone ever consider the fife
As an instrument worthy of learning?

Triolet du jour

Triolet – Music – Lute

The choice of troubadours is the lute
And no wonder they choose to play it
Not the drum, not the horn, not the flute
The choice of troubadours is the lute
And of jesters dressed in motley suits
A full body with strings, lutes display it
The choice of troubadours is the lute
And no wonder they choose to play it

Triolet du jour

Today's poem is about the tambourine:

Triolet – Music – Tambourine

You might think a tambourine takes no skill
To beat out a tune with bells and drum skin
But there is a knack, a trick, if you will
You might think a tambourine takes no skill
You’d be wrong, the learning curve’s uphill
To create music and not a din
You might think a tambourine takes no skill
To beat out a tune with bells and drum skin

Triolet du jour

Here's my triolet du jour for the first day of our second week of musical triolets:


Triolet – Music – Castanets

When I was a graceless six-year-old
I took Spanish dance with castanets
I wasn’t fearless and I wasn’t bold
When I was a graceless six-year-old
But music in my hands I could hold
I loved the clack-clack of the castanets
When I was a graceless six-year-old
I took Spanish dance with castanets

Triolet du jour

Today's instrument in the flute:

Triolet – Music – Flute

The flute eluded me in my youth
I didn’t have the chance to learn it
Braces I wore to correct bucktooth
The flute eluded me in my youth
Teeth corrected, moment of truth --
The flute-playing skill – I need to earn it
The flute eluded me in my youth
I didn’t have the chance to learn it

Triolet du jour

The instrument that is featured in today's triolet is one that I stopped playing not because I wanted to, but because it was just causing the cats too much distress. I could consistently play about five notes without squeaking. Sadly, not many songs have only five notes.

Triolet – Music – Clarinet

I covered the holes and blew out air
And a racket from the clarinet
The noise that I made was far from fair
I covered the holes and blew out air
I looked for the cats, but they weren’t there
They howled and fled from my experiment
I covered the holes and blew out air
And a racket from the clarinet

Triolet du jour

The subject of today's musical triolet is played even less frequently than the violin, but it does at least make a lovely piece of art -- both of them.

Triolet – Music – Harp

How lovely the harp looks by the fire
Another harp graces the wooden hope chest
Methodically I have tuned every wire
How lovely the harp looks by the fire
I wax the carved sound box of the lyre
But I lift it to play it seldom at best
How lovely the harp looks by the fire
Another harp graces the wooden hope chest

Triolet du jour

Today's unplayed instrument is the keyboard:

Triolet – Music – Keyboard

Two keyboards stand beside each other
One on a table and one on the floor
One for the boy and one for his mother
Two keyboards stand beside each other
And cannot be switched one for another
One sounds only bells: the other sounds more
Two keyboards stand beside each other
One on the table and one on the floor

Triolet du jour

Here is my triolet du jour:

Triolet – Music -- Guitar

I planned to learn the guitar before the baby came
But that we before we bought the dog,
Sophie, who was the tornado we chose to name
I planned to learn the guitar before the baby came
But I didn’t – and the dog was to blame –
We had to train her. Was that a slog!
I planned to learn the guitar before the baby came
But that we before we bought the dog

Triolet du jour

I wrote my poem early today, so here it is:

Triolet – Music -- Violin

The violin, long-neglected, alone
Stirs its strings beneath the rosined bow
Instead of sweet sound, it emits a groan
The violin, long-neglected, alone
Each string is slack and cacophony prone
And when tightened twangs a tinny echo
The violin, long-neglected, alone
Stirs its strings beneath the rosined bow